


Let's go back to bed

by Roshwen



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: And a Dutch song, Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Ezekiel Jones Remembers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jake tries to help, M/M, rainy day fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 17:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17005797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roshwen/pseuds/Roshwen
Summary: The wind is howling around the cracks and crannies in the walls of his apartment, and he can hear the distant rolling of the thunder making its way over to join the downpour that is already having a blast all by itself, Jake has half a mind to close his eyes, burrow himself under his blanket and go back to sleep.Except Ezekiel still isn’t there. And by now, Jake has woken up enough to remember why that is.





	Let's go back to bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BabylonsFall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonsFall/gifts).



> So this (like [0hHeyThereBigBadWolf's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf/pseuds/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf) awesome fic started with a post from [BabylonsFall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonsFall/). So, you know. Ask and ye shall receive and all that.
> 
> Also, this is partly inspired by a Dutch song called 'Avond'. The song is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fblkNE2KroE) and a translation of the lyrics can be found [here](https://songteksten.net/translation/28/12450/boudewijn-de-groot/avond.html). Some excerpts:
> 
> _Let the storm wind rage outside in the dark now  
>  'Cause inside it's warm and bright and good_
> 
> _Hand in hand looking outside where the rain is falling_  
>  I see the fire of hope and doubt in your eyes  
> And I know your deepest fear 
> 
> _'Cause you can't know a thing for certain and everything goes by  
>  But I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe in you and I_
> 
> _And when you rise in the morning I'm with you_  
>  And maybe I've already made some tea  
> And when the sun shines outside we'll go walking through the dunes  
> And when it rains we'll go back to bed 
> 
> _Hours of slowly waking up, floating through time_  
>  I see the light through the curtains  
> And I know, the past brings no certainty 
> 
> Now, if that doesn't scream Jazekiel at you, I don't know what will.
> 
> \---

When Jake wakes up that morning, the rain is clattering against the windows and the other side of the bed is empty.

Jake groans. He stretches out a hand to feel around the empty spot for a moment, just to confirm that no, Ezekiel is definitely not there and hasn’t been there for a while now, and then flops onto his back with another groan to gaze balefully at his alarm clock. It proclaims it just shy of 6am. The wind is howling around the cracks and crannies in the walls of his apartment, and he can hear the distant rolling of the thunder making its way over to join the downpour that is already having a blast all by itself, Jake has half a mind to close his eyes, burrow himself under his blanket and go back to sleep.

Except Ezekiel still isn’t there. And by now, Jake has woken up enough to remember why that is.

He sighs. Spares one last wistful thought for the warmth and comfort of his bed and then sits up, rubs a hand over his face and then gets out of bed, only stopping to grab a hoodie on the way out of the bedroom and shuck it on because the air in the bedroom is freezing. A clap of thunder makes him wince. A following gust of wind rattling at the window panes makes him frown and pause for a moment, silently thanking every deity he knows that Eve Baird has proclaimed today one of their regular after-case days off.

Then he opens the door to the living room and sees, to his not inconsiderable relief, Ezekiel, standing in front of the window and looking outside, holding a steaming mug in both hands. The meagre grey light that’s coming from outside is barely enough to see by so Jake cannot make out the look on his face too clearly. But he’s standing there, and for now, that is already more than Jake had expected to see.

He clears his throat, not wanting to startle Ezekiel with a greeting while he’s holding hot liquids. Ezekiel turns his head at the sound but otherwise doesn’t move. He is not wearing a shirt or socks, just his boxers and by now Jake’s eyes have accustomed to the dim light enough to see the goosebumps forming on his arms. He doesn’t say anything, though; he just stays in the doorway, waiting until Ezekiel turns away from the window and gives him a smile. It’s small and a little thin, nowhere near his usual bright grins, but something inside Jake loosens up anyway.

‘Wanted to go for a run,’ Ezekiel says, motioning with his cup towards the windows. ‘But it’s a little wet out there.’

Another thunder clap punctuates that statement. Jake shakes his head and tries not to sag with relief, given that Ezekiel’s ‘runs’ tend to be a little more vertically oriented than those of most other people. He does _not_ want to think about his thief trying to scale a sky scraper, made of slippery things like glass and steel, in weather that can only be called biblical.

He also decides not to point out that Ezekiel has a magical door at his disposal that could have taken him anywhere. Anywhere warm and dry and far away, so he could run for however long he needed to. He’s pretty sure Ezekiel knows that, has thought of that and made a more or less conscious decision to stay anyway. Which is enough for the last knot of tension in Jake’s gut to dissolve into nothing.

‘Just a little rain,’ he says, leaving the doorway and making his way over to where Ezekiel is standing. ‘It’ll blow over.’

Ezekiel makes a face, even as Jake’s arm snakes around his waist and a stubbled kiss is brushed against his cheek. ‘Dunno, cowboy. If you’ve got some timber lying around, I think we’d better start building a giant boat.’

Jake smiles as he presses another kiss to Ezekiel’s cheek, right over the dried up tear tracks he has not managed to brush away yet. ‘What’d you wanna bet we’ve got one in the Library already?’ he asks, right before he catches Ezekiel’s mouth in a long, warm, good morning kiss. He tastes warm and wet, a little salty and a little musty and Jake holds on a little tighter for a little longer than usual. Until Ezekiel breaks away, lets out a breath that’s half sigh, half sob, and proceeds to bury his face into the crook of Jake’s neck. Jake, who saw this coming, takes his weight with ease, only rocking back on his heels a little as he wraps both arms tight around Ezekiel’s shoulders. ‘Alright, Jonesy,’ he mutters, stroking one hand up and down the freezing skin of his back. ‘Alright, I got you. It’s alright.’

He doesn’t know what Ezekiel’s nightmares are about; he just knows that they are _bad,_ bad enough to reduce his bright and happy-go-lucky punk to a heaving, sobbing mess of snot and tears. Ezekiel has never volunteered any information and Jake knows better than to ask. Besides, he’s hardly the person to go and judge someone for keeping secrets. He just knows the nightmares are there, that they’re less frequent than they used to be and also, that last night had been a particularly rough one.

But where Ezekiel usually choses to disappear afterwards for a couple of hours, or even the rest of the day, only to return later with a grin firmly plastered in place as if nothing happened at all, this time he’s still here. Slowly growing boneless in Jake’s arms, his breathing growing steady and less shallow as Jake keeps pressing small kisses into his hair, keeps up a low rumble of soothing nonsense that is only occasionally interrupted by a crash of thunder or a gust of wind making the rain clatter against the windows even harder.

At last, when Ezekiel has gone completely limp so that it’s only Jake keeping him upright, and when Jake has surreptitiously tried rubbing back some warmth into Ezekiel’s skin for so long his hands are starting to feel numb, Jake draws back. Ezekiel makes a displeased noise, but straightens up as well. His hair is mussed and standing up in all directions, his eyes are huge and shining damply and the dark circles under his eyes are truly impressive, but he’s still smiling as Jake cups his cheek in a large, calloused hand, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch like a cat.

‘Let’s go back to bed,’ Jake says, and Ezekiel nods. ‘Best idea you’ve had in a while, cowboy.’

\---

When they finally crawl under the pile of blankets again, Jake’s alarm clock has it a quarter to seven. It takes a while for the both of them to warm up again, shivering against each other and curling into each other for warmth that is slow in coming (and yelping when one freezing foot hits a spot that’s _just_ gotten warm, damn it Jones please keep your damn ice cubes with you thank you very much). But they get there, slowly melting back into the heavy, pink comfort of their bed until Ezekiel has wriggled himself as close to his cowboy as he can physically get, one arm slung across his chest and his head resting on a solid shoulder with a contented smile. Jake, who is absolutely fine with this arrangement, wraps his arm around Ezekiel’s ribs in response, fingers curling gently into the soft skin of his stomach as he buries his nose into the mop of jet black hair that smells of mint shampoo and home.

They stay like that for a while. Barely moving, not talking, but not going back to sleep either. There’s no dozing off when the storm outside is raging, the wind still howling and the thunder crashing overhead like the gods themselves are waging war up there. But inside it’s warm. It’s good. It’s just the two of them, breathing quietly and letting the rest of the world be for now.

\---

Until Ezekiel has to ask.

‘You really think we got Noah’s ark in the Library?’

‘Could be. I mean, we got the Ark of the Covenant, _apparently._ So why not Noah’s one as well?’

‘Hmm.’

‘… you’re gonna search for that damn thing now when we get back to work, aren’t ya?’

‘Sure am, cowboy.’

\---

‘Antwerp.’

‘No. Absolutely not.’

‘Aw, come on cowboy. Why not?’

‘Don’t ‘come on cowboy’ me, Jones. I’m not takin’ you to Antwerp because I know _exactly_ why you’d wanna go there and it ain’t because of the Rubenshuis. No.’

‘Spoilsport.’

‘Shut up. If you really want diamonds, you can save up for them and then buy them. Like a normal person.’

‘ _Ouch._ Stone, you take that back. _’_

Jake grins. ‘Make me.’

\---

‘Barcelona?’ Jake ventures.

‘Nah. _Massive_ tourist trap. Like Amsterdam, but worse.’

‘Amsterdam sounds good, too, though. I’d like to see the Night Watch.’

‘You know, Amsterdam isn’t _that_ far from Antwerp…’

‘ _No.’_

\---

‘Chicago?’ Jake asks with a grin. As if Ezekiel hasn’t twigged the theme by now.

‘Great play. Terrible food. No. Dubai?’

‘That’d be a lot warmer than here. Not a bad idea, Jones.’

‘Awesome. Dubai it is, then.’

\---

It’s not, because once started, they just _have_ to run through the rest of the alphabet as well. When they finally reach Zhengzhou, the rain has somewhat abated, the wind has finally calmed down and the thunder has decided to continue its party elsewhere. The first rays of sunlight are peeking carefully through the curtains and turning the light from dim grey to a hazy blue. The room is quiet again, with neither of them really willing to move and acknowledge the existence of the outside world just yet.

Until Ezekiel’s stomach gives such a vicious rumble that Jake has to laugh. ‘Holy shit, Jonesy. You didn’t tell me you were starving.’

‘m not,’ is the muffled reply. By now, the only part of Ezekiel that’s still visible is the top of his head. The rest is buried underneath the blanket and Jake momentarily worries about his thief suffocating in there when Ezekiel pokes his head back out. ‘But if you’re offering to make pancakes…’

Jake rolls his eyes. ‘Guess I am now, huh?’

‘Awesome,’ Ezekiel says, sitting up with the brightest grin Jake has seen all morning. ‘Lots of syrup, extra bacon?’

‘Sure,’ Jake replies, bending over to kiss his punk, now smiling and humming happily against his mouth again. ‘As long as you take the blankets to the couch?’

Ezekiel’s grin grows so wide, it has to hurt. ‘Movie marathon day, cowboy?’

‘What, like you had other plans?’ Jake shoots back and then throws his head back and laughs as Ezekiel practically bolts from the bed, taking the blankets with him (and Jake’s hoodie, for good measure. It’s still arctic out there). As he gets himself out of the now barren bed, and starts the hunt for his sweat pants and second favorite hoodie, Jake cannot help but think that this day might turn out to be pretty alright after all.


End file.
